


Capital Gain

by Bronze_Barrier



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: AU, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, I don't know how they will share a bed yet, Opposites Attract, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Undercover, Undercover as a Couple, alternative universe, but they will share a bed, no one asked for this but here it is anyway, serquel, so help me god
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:13:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29789001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronze_Barrier/pseuds/Bronze_Barrier
Summary: After his business partner is discovered by the police to be a criminal mastermind of the finance world, Sergio Marquina reluctantly agrees to collaborate with the authorities to insert an undercover officer in their midst. Unfortunately for Sergio, Raquel Murillo’s role in the operation is too close for comfort. Sergio x Raquel - Slow Burn
Relationships: Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 42
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer #1: English is not my native language and this work is unbeta-d. I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes.  
> Disclaimer #2: I love the country of Spain and the Spanish language, but I don't speak Spanish. If you see any inconsistencies or mistakes, I apologize for those as well. Let me know and I'll fix them right away.
> 
> I've never written for this fandom before, but I love Serquel so hopefully you guys will go easy on me. Enjoy!

Sergio Marquina woke up every morning precisely at 6.00 am seconds before his alarm.

At 6.30 am, he worked out at the fitness center located conveniently at his building. He brought with him a single white towel, a 750 ml water bottle, and a pair of headphones in case a neighbor was feeling particularly friendly that morning.

At 7.30 am, he came home to shower and put on the clothes he had selected from the night before. He trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth, and cleaned his ears thoroughly.

At 8 am, he had his breakfast. His meal consisted of a banana smoothie with a protein shake followed by a single apple. On days where he felt particularly chirpy, he allowed himself a strawberry smoothie.

At 8.30, he started his Mercedes and drove to work. He never complained about the traffic as it was the necessary evil to facilitate transportation. If a fellow driver dared to honk at him, he turned up the volume to his guided meditation.

At 9 am, he arrived at work, where he was the Chief Financial Officer of T.E.C.C. Industries. He exchanged the same pleasantries with the same people in the same combination. On Mondays, he asked his secretary Silene about her weekend. Tuesdays through Thursdays, he asked her about the weather. On Fridays, he asked her about her weekend plans. He did not look into her eyes more than necessary as not to encourage her into a conversation.

From 9 am to 12.30 pm, he worked hard. As the CFO of a multibillion-dollar company, he was responsible for all financial aspects of their operation. He presented and reported information to the company. He briefed the shareholders, met with the creditors, and he analyzed the various financial predictions. He did all of this with one single espresso keeping him company. He never went for seconds.

At 12.30 pm, he took lunch. He brought his food from home and ate that day’s corresponding portion of the meal he prepared for the week on Sunday. This included lots of lean meats, fish, vegetables, and a healthy amount of carbs. He washed his color-coded Tupperware immediately after he finished.

At 1 pm, he returned to work. In the afternoons, he focused on the company’s present condition. He made important decisions, determined where to invest the company’s money, analyzed the capital structure, and reviewed internal financing. He conducted meetings with the other financial officers to identify the key areas of efficiency and capitalized on the findings. If the company was making profit, he issued dividends to shareholders.

At 6 pm, he went home, although this was the single time of the day where he was the most flexible. Sergio’s work was his life, and as such, if he deemed it appropriate, he chose to stay in the office as long as necessary to complete his work.

At 7.30 pm, he started preparing dinner. He allowed himself a single glass of red wine -as it was good for the heart and ate his meal alone.

At 9 pm, he put on his pajama set, laid out his clothes for the next day, and read fifty pages from a novel.

At precisely 10.30 pm, he went to bed. He never had any trouble falling asleep. Ever.

#

Sergio Marquina woke up precisely at 6.00 am seconds before his alarm.

At 6.30 am, he went to the gym. He silenced his mind and worked out. At 8 am, he prepared himself a banana smoothie. He had a Granny’s Smith apple.

At 9 am, he walked into the giant corporate building in downtown Madrid with a stoic expression. He gave Silene a well-rehearsed smile and was told that she enjoyed the warm weather, although rain was on the horizon. When she told him how romantic she thought the rain was, he nodded uncomfortably.

At 10.30 am, he reviewed that month’s financial statements. His red marker branded every bullet point with a confident checkmark. He took a sip from his espresso. He turned the page.

He paused.

He blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses. That was odd. He picked up the folder and held it to the window, letting the sunshine illuminate the pages. He squinted, brought the page close to his nose, then deciding that it was a bad idea, held it far away.

Unfortunately for Sergio, the numbers did not lie. The numbers were not sentient, and they did not care about sunlight.

He jumped from his seat. Clutching the folder tightly in his hand, he stormed out of his office.

Sergio did not _storm out_. He politely exited rooms with pleasant smiles and a few apologies to inanimate objects, which was why Silene practically yelped in surprise as she watched her boss march down the hallway.

It was a warm Tuesday morning, unusual for winter. The office was full and particularly busy. People darted in and out of rooms, clients complained in the lobby, and the photocopy machine hummed quietly in the corner. None of it mattered to Sergio as he stomped down the hallway towards the biggest office in the building.

When he burst into the room without so much as a knock, he found Andres De Fonollosa lounging comfortably in his office chair with a giant Cuban cigar in his hand.

“What the hell is this?” He held up the folder in his hand as though it was self-explanatory.

“Good morning to you too,” Andres smiled broadly and somehow managed to lean back further into the headrest.

“Are you purposefully trying to give me a panic attack?”

“I’m familiar with your panic attacks. I have the hospital on speed dial,” he replied, speaking from memory. The cat on his lap meowed in agreement.

 _A cat._ There was a cat on his lap.

“Explain these figures to me,” Sergio spoke, unphased by the feline, which seemed to be some sort of a pure bread Persian. He walked to his desk and slammed the red folder right in front of him.

Andres’s office was ostentatious. The floor-to-ceiling windows decorated the three corners of his office, and for a moment, Sergio wondered whether this much sunlight was even good for the brain. Andres seemed drunk on it, although there happened to be a glass of amber liquid on his desk, which looked equally culpable.

His hands, covered in gold rings, moved slowly as he reached over and dared to glance at the papers thrown in front of him. He asked from behind his desk, “What’s all this?”

“These are the financial statements of this month,” Sergio replied, bracing a hand on the mahogany table, which was wrestled away from a German businessman at an underground auction. “The income statement shows a negative cash flow.”

“Hm, yes indeed, there seems to be a lot of numbers on this page,” Andres tapped his cigar onto the ivory ashtray. A few speckles of ash blew onto the folder, and he swiped them away with the back of his hand, leaving long gray streaks at its wake.

Sergio tried very hard not to lose his mind.

“Listen,” he began again, “if you look closely at the balance sheet-“

But he noticed that he had lost Andres’s attention. The man’s gaze drifted over to the tiny hand mirror on his desk.

Sergio snapped his fingers in impatience. “Hey, hey! Listen to me!” He pointed at the file. “Follow my finger, Andres. Our cash payments exceed the income. We have too many obligations to fulfill by the end of this week, and the last time I’d checked, we collected a cash receivable at the beginning of this month. Are you listening to me? Yet, it does not show up on this statement. How does it not show up on this statement?”

“Hm,” Andres frowned, “Did you look closely? Maybe if we looked at it under proper light…” with that, he proceeded to hold the paper up to the window.

Sergio snatched the paper away from him in frustration. It nearly crumbled in his fist. “You are the CEO of this entire corporation, Andres. You need to explain to me where the money is.”

“Exactly!” He exclaimed, standing up at once. The cat screeched and landed on the carpeted floor. “Like you said, I am the CEO of this company, Sergio. Let me deal with this kind of stuff.”

“I am the one who’s in charge of our finances. What do you think is going to happen when the creditors don’t receive their money by the end of the week? Hell, even if I can fight off the creditors for a while, where the hell is the money? It can’t just disappear. Numbers don’t disappear.”

Andres walked leisurely around the desk and put a comforting arm around Sergio’s shoulders. The cigar smoke clouded the room, and Sergio suppressed the urge to cough up one of his lungs.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Andres said, “calm down. Take a deep breath.” He inhaled ceremoniously.

“I know how to breathe,” Sergio snapped, then coughed.

“Look, there’s no need to make such a big deal out of it. What you see there is a little discrepancy that will be fixed tomorrow. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about it.”

Sergio pushed his hand away. “This is not the first time I’m catching a little discrepancy in these figures. You’re swimming in dangerous waters, Andres. Where the hell is the money?”

“Sergio, do you trust me?”

He didn’t answer. The antique grandfather clock ticked calmly in the corner.

“I’ve known you since we were kids,” Andres went on. “We started this beautiful company together. You’re like a little brother to me. Don’t you trust me?”

Sergio did trust him. He’d hate to admit it, but Andres was the person who’d taken risks on their behalf. He was the genius behind their success. He was the big philosopher. It was Andres who saved him from a life of excel spreadsheets and put him in charge of the biggest company in Spain. Despite the occasional crazy in his sharp brown eyes, he got the better of life at every step.

Sergio nodded cautiously, a reluctant gaze meeting his eyes. He did trust him, but he didn’t have to be happy about it.

“That’s what I’d like to see!” The older man chuckled, a low echo sharp enough to break glass. His face was sinister yet warm. “I just borrowed a little money for an urgent business I had, but I promise you the money will be there tomorrow. We’ll repay our debts with interest!”

“This company is the cornerstone of the European stock market. The whole world has their eyes on us. Damn it, Andres, you get married, and our stock price goes up!”

“That’s exactly why I got married five times.”

Sergio ignored that remark. “You cannot screw this up. Whatever game you’re playing, make sure that you come out on top, or else we’re dust.”

“Ah, you worry too much!” He exclaimed. The chill breeze in his tone battled against the tension in the room. He walked over to the bar cart and poured a glass of whiskey. The liquid sparkled like starlight in the morning sun. “It’s not the first time I borrowed a little pocket money.”

“That’s my point,” Sergio followed him, prying the expensive crystal away from his hand and slamming it on the nearest surface. Droplets of whiskey landed on his arm. “You are _embezzling_.”

“Ouch, such a strong word for a few euros.”

“I do trust you, I really do, but I will not keep covering for you.”

Andres cocked his head to the side. “You wound me, brother.”

Sergio walked back to the desk and attempted to grab the financial statements, which were currently serving as a throw pillow for the Persian cat. She meowed in protest.

“Your accomplice?” Sergio pulled the papers away from the desk and pointed at the cat. “What? The zoo was out of exotic animals?”

“That’s okay, Sofia. He didn’t mean that.” Andres rushed to cradle the cat. He picked up the ball of fur and turned to him. “What are you, the animal control?”

“You very well know that my allergies-“ he started but stopped himself midsentence, refusing to fall into this trap. Andres thrived on distraction, and he wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction, not when their finances were on the brink of complete ruin. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” the older man confirmed.

“I want the money in the account by tomorrow.”

“Scout’s honor.”

With one last threatening look at Sofia, Sergio walked out of his office, and he almost collided with a shaking young man who was clearly about to knock on the door.

“E-Excuse me, sir, you can’t be in there,” the man trembled. “Not without an appointment.

“Who are you?”

“Anibal Cortez, sir. I a-am Mr. De Fonollosa’s new secretary.”

One look at the young man with his skinny tie and terrified expression; it was obvious that Anibal was fresh meat. Sergio winced, “He’s going to eat you alive…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing, best of luck.”

He left the tragedy behind to solve itself. He was so distracted that he didn’t hear Silene’s pleas to answer his phone. He forgot to flash his practiced smile to his coworkers. People stepped out of his way, and no one dared to even look in his direction.

He stabbed his salmon at lunch, demanded early results at his afternoon meeting, and almost forgot to lock his office on the way out. Nevertheless, he was out of the beacon of capitalism by 6 pm and arrived home to silence.

Deep breaths controlled his anxiety. He put on his apron and began preparing dinner under the bright lights of his kitchen. Cooking eased his mind, separated work from life. What Andres did was not the first time he walked the thin line between fraud and fidelity. Sergio knew that Andres was a good leader. He had founded their company from zero, handpicked every officer, and signed every contract. He came to work every day after 10 am and spend half an hour with a different employee each morning, chatting about football. In a way, Sergio admired him. The CEO was talented in a way that he wasn’t, which was why he was the man on the magazine covers, and Sergio walked around with a calculator in hand.

The chicken hissed soundly in the pan. He began chopping the tomatoes, beautifully, methodically, as he’d learned in cooking class. Soft piano music echoed from the radio. He hummed quietly to himself.

He heard the door just as he started measuring the rice. He paused.

People did not visit Sergio Marquina. He was invisible. No one besides Andres knew where he lived. A fresh wave of anxiety overcame him. He took a deep breath, practiced, and controlled because technique mattered. Wiping his hands, he headed to the foyer.

Whoever it was, he was going to send him on their way and get back to his organic tomatoes.

However, what he saw through the peephole stopped his fragile heart.

“Mr. Marquina. It’s the police. Open up!”

They banged on the door. Sergio jumped two steps back. He quickly ran through all the scenarios in his head; there was the parking ticket from two months ago that he disputed, the little skirmish with the Homeowner’s Association from last week, and the fingerprints he forgot to renew at the police station. He carefully considered all the options.

Then he decided that the culprit was the tall gentleman with a mustache who lived downstairs. The weekly building meetings were sacred to Sergio, and he didn’t always see eye to eye with his neighbor. It was only natural that he’d sue him.

He fixed his hair and adjusted his glasses. Mentally reciting the terms of his lease, he opened the door.

“I did not mean to throw that bucket at his head,” he said confidently, skipping all the necessary introductions. “It was entirely self-defense.”

“You threw a what?” The police officer, chubby with glasses, asked in shock.

“Well, technically, it was more of an empty trash can, but he had it coming.”

“What?!”

“Fine, fine, fine!” He threw his hand up in the air in exasperation. “It wasn’t empty. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Mr. Marquina, we’re not here for… the trashcan,” the other officer spoke. “My name is Alfonso Prieto. This is my colleague Angel Rubio. We need your help.”

Sergio frowned. Then he noticed the man’s suit; it was impeccably ironed. The other guy who was introduced as Angel was also devoid of any uniform. He looked behind them to spot five other police officers with full gear. Their radio muffled quietly in the background, the unintelligible words echoing softly in the hallway.

“I’m not under arrest?” He dared to ask, growing more confused by the second.

“Not if you cooperate,” Prieto said. “May we come in?”

#

Sergio watched dumbfounded as everything he knew about Andres got shattered into pieces by the Spanish police force.

Angel paced around his living room, his muddy shoes leaving vulgar prints on the fresh hardwood floor. “The main charge is embezzlement, of course, then there’s the fraud, money laundering, conspiracy, misappropriation, tax evasion…”

“Tax evasion?!” Sergio looked up from the bulky file they had handed to him on Andres De Fonollosa. It included years and years of investigation, police reports, photographs, and bank statements meticulous beyond Sergio’s wild OCD-induced dreams. “You can’t be serious!”

“…and insider trading,” Angel concluded with a sigh.

“No,” Sergio tossed the file onto the coffee table and brought his hands to his face. “Not the company stocks, anything but the company stocks…”

“Andres is the king of underground financial crime,” Prieto spoke from where he was sitting on the couch. “We’ve been after him for years, but we can never gather enough evidence. He always seems to be one step ahead of us.”

Angel nodded. “We’ve tried private investigations, witness statements, we even managed to bring him down to the station a few times, but we never had enough proof to keep him there.”

Two police officers waited inside with the detectives. The other three stood guard by the door. Sergio’s house had never hosted this many people at once. The walls creaked in protest; the pipes objected to the crowd.

“I didn’t know… I had no idea…”

“We’re aware of that, Mr. Marquina,” Prieto leaned forward. “It seems that Fonollosa used two separate books for his financial activities. You were in charge of the legitimate side of your business. The illegitimate side was never shared with you.”

Sergio thought back on all the little side glances he shared with Andres, all the little comments, the winks, the sneaking around. The things he thought were his personality now resurfaced under a different light. He noticed his absence from company functions, his presence at the unimportant routine meetings. Andres had a habit of popping up out of nowhere and disappearing without a trace. The inconsistent behavior rendered him an eccentric businessman. No one suspected him, especially Sergio.

Sure, there were the occasional sins. The missing money from that morning, a few euros every now and then, and sporadic payments to nameless entities Sergio did not recognize. It happens, he’d thought to himself. The money was returned within twenty-four hours, and Andres came back with a bright smile and a new bottle of whiskey from an exotic country.

“So, you’re starting a new investigation now?” He dared to ask after a beat, not knowing how else to react. He thought about the future of the company, and his meditation practice flew out the window.

“It will be different this time,” Angel said from where he was standing. “It seems that Fonollosa finally got involved with an organization that is known to be armed and dangerous. He owed them a considerable amount of money. That’s why we have to take a more… indirect approach.”

“We can’t risk harming the public, as you understand,” the older man said.

“God…” Sergio put his head in between his hands again, elbows resting on his knees. It felt as though if he kept his eyes closed long enough, he would wake up in the comfort of his bed, ready to go to the gym, play his classical music, fight with the neighbors. The comfort was gone. His career was about to come crashing down like quarterly expense reports. “What am I going to do?”

“If you’re worried about where your company will end up, we might be able to help.”

Sergio peered at them, suspicious. His corporation was too precious to be discussed like the single child of a divorced couple. “I don’t see how this can end well for the company.”

“Listen,” Prieto said. “No matter what happens, you can’t go on like this. Your business is built on a lie, and your king is sitting on a wobbly throne. We know that neither you nor your employees want to lose your jobs.”

“So?”

“So, we’ll arrange an acquisition.”

“A takeover?!” Sergio almost went for his trashcan.

“A merger,” Prieto soothed him. “An amicable merger. Your company won’t dissolve, everyone will keep their jobs, and you will even keep your position as CFO.”

Sergio looked around suspiciously. Prieto looked serious, Angel was eyeing his chicken dinner, and the two police officers stood like statutes behind the couch. “That’s a generous offer. I’m assuming that you want something in return.”

“Only your cooperation.”

“And what does that entail?”

Prieto leaned back with a sigh. He crossed his legs. “We’ll infiltrate your company by placing someone undercover to gather evidence without arousing suspicion. You will help us by collaborating with the undercover officer.”

“I can’t do that,” he was quick to reply. “Andres is like a brother to me. I can’t lie to his face.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?” Angel chimed in.

“I can’t. I really can’t. I’m a bad liar. He’ll see right through me!”

“We don’t want you to lie. The undercover agent will lie on your behalf.” Prieto answered. “We just need your help in placing her in a strategic position. She will be close enough to Andres to gather intelligence, but far enough that he won’t be suspicious.”

A panic attack was creeping up. Calming thoughts, he told himself. He had just bought a new set of striped pajamas that matched his bedsheets. Life was looking up. This was just a little nuisance he had to overcome. The sooner he sent the officers away, the sooner he could bury himself under his blanket and hopefully never come out again.

“Look, I really appreciate that you came to me with this; I really do, but I can’t do it. I simply cannot do it.”

“Mr. Marquina,” Prieto stopped him. There was a subtle shift in his voice. “I don’t think I made myself clear. This is not a request. You will help us.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t think you’d be off the hook just because Fonollosa kept two separate books, do you? You are the CFO of this billion-dollar corporation. I’m sure there was something you noticed, something that was off in the books that you questioned. I don’t know what it is now, but make no mistake, unless you help us, we will link you to his crimes.”

Sergio panicked. He imagined himself in prison. No striped pajamas, no cooking classes, no yoga. Somehow, he doubted that he’d be able to trade in cigarettes for moisturizer. Another panic attack crawled up his leg. He steadied his breathing. “You… you wouldn’t.”

“Oh yes, we would,” Angel said.

“So, what do you want from me?” He swallowed hard.

“We don’t have to rush into anything,” Prieto seemed to have the better temper out of the two detectives. “We have our agent here, downstairs. For now, you can just meet her, and we’ll ease you into this.”

His dinner was forgotten on the kitchen counter. The organic chicken, only half cooked, had grown soggy in the olive oil. His career was on the brink of collapse. The work was his life, and Sergio didn’t know what he’d do without it. He was married to his job, and it was a beautiful union. The thought of losing it was unimaginable. Utterly impossible.

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Prieto grabbed his own radio and murmured into the device, “send her up.” He turned to Sergio. “You have nothing to worry about. She’s one of the best officers in the force.”

It wasn’t a matter of excellence, Sergio thought to himself. It was a matter of principle. By doing this, he’d be throwing himself to the wolves. He’d have to say goodbye to life as he knew it and begin a game of lies and deceit, something he’d never been good at. On the contrary, Andres was the fox. He could sniff trickery from a mile away. Sergio was absolutely screwed. He was going to blink the wrong way, and their entire operation was going to unravel. He knew it, he just knew it.

Seconds later, he heard footsteps. He stood up to greet the intruder. One of the police officers opened the door, and in came a woman in a leather jacket.

Sergio blinked. He looked at the woman, and she looked back at him. Something shifted in the room. The world went silent.

“Mr. Marquina, meet Raquel Murillo.”

The woman gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment, stern but professional. The heart he’d never felt in his chest actually skipped a beat.

“We want you to introduce her as your girlfriend.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much to everyone who read and commented! As always, I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes.

The woman who graced the darkness of his foyer was stunning.

Her beauty wasn’t conventional; it came from the mysterious aura around her. Her soft brown eyes scanned the room first, and then her lips tightened into a grim line. Her long brown hair fell softly around her shoulders. Sergio guessed her to be around his age.

He pulled himself to his feet. He didn’t know what it was about her, but he was starstruck. She was quiet but observant. No words had left her lips yet, but from the way her cautious eyes watched his every move, he found himself already interested in what she had to say.

“That’s him?” she asked. Her voice was low and gravelly.

“Yes, this is the chief financial officer of the company,” Prieto made the necessary introductions. “Sergio Marquina.”

The woman -Raquel, did not look happy. Sergio immediately panicked.

She looked around his apartment. His place was tidy, and he took pride in it. When he signed the lease to the condo five or so years ago, he was ready to transform it into his safe space. This was home, his life away from work. And as such, he kept the place impeccably clean. The high ceilings complimented the granite countertops. The furniture was sleek, all black with a splash of blue for color. There was not a speck of dust on the coffee table. One of the two black leather couches, designed for art, not for comfort, stood opposite from the giant window that overlooked the entire city of Madrid. Under the dim lights, the city sparkled like a giant constellation.

“Nice place,” Raquel remarked, clearly not impressed.

“T-thank you,” he stammered and adjusted his glasses. “It’s a little messy,” with that, he threw a disapproving look at the muddy footprints Angel had left behind.

Sergio saw the ghost of a smirk gracing her lips, but she did not break her composure. He drew in a sharp breath. He was intrigued, and he found himself wanting to put Angel down further if it meant that he could pry a smile out of her.

There was silence. Then someone cleared their throat.

“Raquel has been in the force for many years. She’s our most trusted officer, and she has experience in these types of missions before,” Prieto explained.

Raquel stepped out of the shadows and joined them in the living room. She didn’t look too excited to be there.

Once they were within a few feet of each other, Prieto looked back and forth between them with satisfaction from where he was sitting on the couch. “Oh yes, this will work beautifully. What do you think, Angel?”

Angel looked between the two of them and scowled. “I’m not too sure about this.”

“I am,” Prieto grinned. “I think they look great as a couple.”

Sergio paused at the word.

He was way too preoccupied with Raquel and the sound of her voice that he had entirely ignored what her role would be in this operation. He took a step back and looked at the older officer incredulously. “Wait a minute. A couple?!”

“As I’ve said, you’re going to introduce her as your girlfriend.”

“I think he got it the first time,” Raquel rolled her eyes. She was wrong.

Sergio whimpered. His body fell onto the couch in resignation.

“Wait a minute, there’s no need to panic,” Prieto was quick to intervene. He reached for his briefcase and fumbled with the papers. He finally pulled out a file and slid it to Sergio from across the coffee table. “Here, we have a list of all the company functions you have lined up in the next six months.”

With a trembling hand, Sergio reached over and picked up the piece of paper.

“We want you to make appearances at these events together. It won’t be too difficult. You’ll introduce Raquel to Fonollosa and the others, then she’ll take it from there.”

His eyes scanned the document. The contents mirrored his calendar for the next few months. There were galas, fundraisers, conferences, even happy hours that were open to the employees and their plus-ones. T.E.C.C. Industries took pride in their fame. These events were designed to increase the company’s media exposure and pamper the shareholders. Sergio was familiar with these affairs. He did not go unless he was dragged there against his will. Coincidentally, Andres was never absent from them.

“Officer Suarez here will coach you in the next few hours and get you up to speed,” Prieto turned around to the officer who’d been standing behind the couch. Suarez nodded in compliance.

Everyone in the room seemed to be on the same page except for Sergio. Sergio was not on the same page. He wasn’t even on the same book.

He was terrified. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and fixed his gaze on the calendar in front of him to buy himself some time. He couldn’t do this. He knew he couldn’t do this. The police had no idea how terrible he was at lying. The last time he tried to lie to Andres to get out of a cocktail party, Andres had grabbed him from his collar and threw him into a conference room like a freshly roasted pig ready to be served.

Dishonesty was not the only problem. Truth to be told, Sergio didn’t… date. His personal life was non-existent, and romance was never an option. He was simply too busy. No one was going to believe that a woman like Raquel was his girlfriend. As a matter of fact, he didn’t have the time for a girlfriend, and even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to approach a woman. Women were terrifying. If he was ever going to date, he’d have to find a woman as passionate about his weekly building meetings as he was. He needed a woman who cared about communal landscaping and elevator maintenance.

For some reason, he had a feeling that Raquel preferred the stairs over an elevator. He dared to throw a tentative look in her direction. She narrowed her eyes at him. He looked away immediately.

“Well?” She asked impatiently. “Any questions?”

“Yes, just one. What’s the food like in prison?”

She frowned. “What?”

“For when Andres realizes it’s all a sham, and you guys throw me in jail for fraud. Am I allowed to bring in my own seasoning, or can I buy some from the canteen?”

Before he knew it, Raquel was grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. Her grip was small but painful. He yelped, but she ignored that little sound of protest as she dragged him to the kitchen. There was no privacy about the open floor plan in his twenty-first century home, but he felt pretty cornered as his lower back hit the counter. She stood before him, shielding him from the rest of the officers.

“You think this is funny?” She snapped at him.

“Raquel,” Prieto warned from where he was sitting on the couch.

She held out a hand, signaling him not to interrupt. She turned back to Sergio with fire in her eyes. He grabbed the edge of the countertop in fear.

“You seem to be taking this pretty lightly, so let me remind you of your predicament,” she lowered her voice, making sure that he was the only one privy to the threat that was about to follow. “You are in charge of the finances of one of the biggest companies in the country. You think you have it all, don’t you? You live in this fancy apartment bought with the money you earn from tax evasion.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“Surprised?” She stepped close to him. “Every penny in your bank account came from exploiting innocent people. While you sit here and eat your gourmet dinner, Andres extorts the weak and cheats the system. Last year, he made millions of euros from insider trading alone.”

Sergio choked on his spit. “…insider trading is illegal.”

“There wouldn’t be an army of cops in your apartment if it was legal,” Raquel sneered. “Every time you were about to acquire a new business or start a new line of product, he traded that information to the highest bidder _months_ ahead of the press release.”

“No…” he struggled to breathe.

She pressed closer to him, now inches between their bodies. “Remember those initial prices you set for your stock based on purchase volume? The numbers you reported to the Securities Market Commission never even reached the building. Andres inflated the prices behind your back.”

“No, not the share price…” A sharp pain stabbed his heart.

“How about the many tales of proxy fraud? Did they tell you about that?”

Sergio couldn’t take it anymore. His throat tightened, although he didn’t know whether it was from the looming end of his career or the proximity between them. His hands were shaking. “Please, stop…”

“Listen to me carefully when I say this; I hate people like you, Mr. Marquina. So, if I’m putting my entire life on hold to be your arm candy in front of your rich friends, you will stop making jokes and act like I’m the best girlfriend you’ve had, or else I will throw your ass in jail faster than you can _spell_ public defender. Agreed?”

He felt her breath on his face and pressed himself further against the counter. His hand knocked over a glass. It rolled off the counter and fell to its death. Sergio jumped in surprise. His heart had stopped beating entirely. He watched her in fear, scared to even blink.

“Nod if you understand.”

He nodded furiously.

“Good. Now sit down and fall in love with me.”

He swallowed.

Raquel finally stepped back, and Sergio let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“And that’s why she’s the best,” Prieto beamed at Angel, who rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Sergio slowly made his way back to the couch. He felt shaken to his core. It felt as though Raquel had torn his soul out of his body, bulldozed it, and stuffed it back in. He only wondered whether the Spanish police force was willing to reimburse him for the years of therapy he was going to need after that interaction. His anxiety invaded his senses, and he searched for the nearest sharp object to protect himself from the woman who was to be his girlfriend. Raquel’s threats only confirmed his hypothesis; women were indeed terrifying.

He took a tentative seat on the couch, afraid to even put his entire weight onto the cushions in fear of someone yelling at him. Sitting on the smaller sofa, Prieto had his bald head buried into the file on Andres De Fonollosa. Angel paced back and forth behind him in complete disregard of how much it cost to polish hardwood. Sergio made a mental note to mop and repolish his floors.

“Shall we begin?” Suarez took a seat on one of the armchairs. A lifetime ago, Sergio had personally selected the oak frame of that armchair.

“Yes,” Raquel answered on his behalf. She came to the sitting area and took a seat beside Sergio on the couch. He leaned further away from her.

“Yes,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t believe that he was thinking about making Raquel laugh just a few minutes ago. He felt like a fool. Raquel wasn’t interested in laughing at anything he’d say to her. She hated him, and she’d made it clear.

He felt discouraged. He decided to never talk to a woman ever again.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Suarez’s voice was calm but professional. It eased the tension in the room. “Where did you two meet, and how long have you been dating, that kind of stuff.”

There was a comfortable pause. Then Raquel spoke, “We can’t be dating for more than six months, or else Andres would be suspicious.” She turned to him as though she hadn’t just assaulted him in his own kitchen. “You two are relatively close, right?”

Sergio shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the whining of his lungs. “Very close. He’s like a brother to me.”

“Exactly,” Raquel nodded. “Anything longer than six months won’t do.”

“Let’s say four months then,” Suarez said, “You met four months ago. Where did you meet?”

Sergio paused, not knowing how to contribute. Raquel threw him an impatient look.

Prieto was quick to join the conversation. “Is there any place you visit frequently? A café, a store, something like that?”

“I rarely go out,” Sergio replied, still hesitant to go along with the farce that was about to become his life. “I’m usually very busy.”

“How about a dating app?” Raquel suggested.

“No, Andres knows I hate that kind of stuff,” he said. “Online dating makes me nervous.”

“Is there anything that doesn’t make you nervous?” she sighed in exasperation.

“Not being threatened in my own kitchen really eases my nerves,” he snapped at her, unable to take the subtle repartee. “You should really try it sometime.”

“Careful, verbal abuse against a police officer starts from 6 months,” she cautioned.

“At this rate, you’re going to send me to jail if I breathe the wrong way.”

“Breathe properly then.”

“I have anxiety!”

“Hey, cut it out,” Prieto intervened with a frown on his face. “What’s going on with you two? You’ve been nothing but hostile since you met, and you met seven minutes ago.”

Raquel groaned with irritation, and Sergio looked away from her. He wondered how much jail time he’d get for jumping out the window.

He tried to be civil. The sooner they finished this, the sooner they were out of his apartment, and he could polish his hardwood floors violently until the early hours of the morning. “I take cooking classes on the weekends. Can you cook?”

“Yes.”

“We can say that we met at one of my cooking classes. I attend a variety of workshops, so I don’t stick to one class.” He explained. “How good are you at cooking?”

“Good enough,” she shrugged. “Is that important?”

“I take cooking very seriously, and Andres knows this. He’ll never believe that I’m dating someone who can’t cook.”

She rolled her eyes. “Anyone can cook.”

_The audacity. The absolute audacity of this woman._

He sucked in all the oxygen in the room, and he was about to give her an introductory lesson on tomatoes but was quickly interrupted by Suarez.

“Cooking class works, that’s great.” It was as though the man could tell that the dynamic between the duo was akin to an active volcano, and he was slowly learning to maneuver carefully. “I like that idea.”

“Now, tell us a bit more about your private life, things that your girlfriend would know,” Prieto addressed him.

Sergio looked around in suspicion. Even if the rest of the officers stood guard by the door, out of earshot, he still felt uncomfortable sharing his private life with the Spanish police force, especially when Angel watched over him like a wild animal on a leash. The man and his beer gut seemed to take up more space in the room than the other two officers combined.

“Do you think,” he started, clearing his throat. His right leg bounced restlessly. “May I… c-can I get some space here?” With that, he threw a pointed look at Angel and his big puffy coat that seemed to swallow him up.

Prieto nodded in understanding. “Of course. Angel, come with me.”

“We can’t leave Raquel alone with this criminal,” Angel protested.

“I’m not a criminal.” Sergio defended himself. “I don’t even know _how_ to commit a crime.”

Raquel sighed, not willing to prolong the issue further. “Leave it, Angel. He’s just an accountant.”

_What?!_

That little remark threw him off guard. He’d rather be called a criminal than an accountant. His nostrils flared. “I am a _financial analyst_.”

“A fancy word for accountant.”

“This fancy accountant is your only way into Andres’ life, so I suggest you pick your words carefully.” He was not a confrontational man, but she had a way of getting under his skin.

“Or what? What will you do? Attack me with office supplies? Send an army of auditors after me?”

“A graph calculator is a powerful weapon.”

“So is this.” With that, she unzipped her leather jacket in one quick motion and revealed a handgun strapped to her body.

Sergio jumped in shock. “Wait a minute, no one told me she had a gun??”

Raquel’s lips curved into a feline smile. “Provoke me one more time. I dare you.”

Sergio sat there, terrified. Not of the fifth death threat he’d received that day per se. But he realized that he didn’t have much experience in removing gunpowder residue from a surface. That stain in his beautiful apartment would haunt him forever. He mentally reminded himself to buy more bleach tomorrow.

“You still wanna leave them alone?!” Angel snapped at Prieto, reminding everyone that Sergio and Raquel were, in fact, not the only ones in the room.

Prieto crinkled his nose, then declared in a careful tone. “Officer Suarez will keep them company.”

Suarez nodded in understanding.

Sergio slid further away from Raquel, now holding onto the arm of the couch like his life depended on it. This woman frightened him, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself from testing her boundaries. Even if he knew that teasing her was eventually going to end in dismemberment, he yearned to see that spark in her eyes again. He quickly shook himself out of that thought.

_Stop it. She is going to kill you, and you won’t be able to pay off your mortgage._

“Alright,” Suarez spoke once Prieto and Angel were out of earshot. “Are you comfortable?”

Sergio hadn’t been comfortable in any way since he was born, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Good,” he replied. “The key to a successful undercover operation is a good story. It is imperative that you get to know Raquel well and stick to the narrative. The rest is about keeping calm and trusting your partner.”

“Trust?” Sergio almost scoffed.

“It’ll happen in time,” Raquel replied, though she sounded hesitant.

“Now, Raquel is an expert in strategy and negotiation,” Suarez continued. “She was trained to diffuse any situation, no matter how difficult it can be. Once we craft your story, all you need to do is remember the facts. If you find yourself in any trouble, she will be there to guide you.”

“How will she know that I’m in trouble?”

“Another element of this mission is proximity, and it is imperative,” Suarez replied. “Since Raquel’s only reason to be at these company functions is her relationship with you, you two will be together at all times.”

“I won’t leave your side,” Raquel added. “I cannot be caught operating alone, especially by Andres.”

Sergio’s mind raced as he struggled to keep up with the officers in front of him. He could tell that this wasn’t their first time training someone like him. He briefly wondered how often Raquel went on these missions. She looked professional but reluctant. If he were to guess, he’d say it was due to his inexperience. If the police were coming to him for help, it meant that they were out of options. Or else this entire investigation wouldn’t rest on his ability to lie.

“So, you two met four months ago at a cooking workshop,” Suarez began. “You saw Raquel, thought she was beautiful, and asked her out.”

“… and she said yes?” Sergio was already suspicious. No way anyone was going to believe this version of him.

Surprisingly, Raquel was not happy with that scenario either. “No, I asked _him_ out. Somehow I doubt anyone’s going to believe that Mr. Marquina asked _me_ out.”

Even though she could read him like a book, he found himself taking offense to that little presumption. “You don’t think I can approach someone like you?”

“You can’t even look me in the eye,” she scoffed.

Taking her up on the challenge, he gathered every bit of strength he had and slowly turned to her. When he finally met her eyes, he sucked in a deep breath.

He could do this. He was a grown man. He could look into Raquel’s eyes without peeing his pants.

Impressed, she cocked her head to the side. “Good start,” she said, her eyes landing on the distance between them. “Now come closer.”

“Woah,” he clutched the arm of the couch.

“Calm down,” Suarez intervened, then he threw a knowing look at Raquel. “We’ll need to work on body language.”

“Let’s just get the story straight first,” she said. “I asked _him_ out. We went to dinner first.”

“No, not dinner,” Sergio relaxed a bit, a train of thought taking over. “You came over here, and I cooked for you.”

She turned to him and arched a brow. “Alright.”

“Duck,” he said after a beat. “The duck season was four months ago. I bought two and roasted them. We shared a bottle of Bordeaux.”

There was something in the way she looked at him that aroused his interest. The cooking story came easy to him. For once, he was familiar with the area. He could tell that she was pleased with this sudden burst of creativity. Raquel smiled at Suarez, who nodded in approval.

“Do you drink often?” she asked him.

“No more than a glass,” he replied. “Alcohol doesn’t agree with me. Do you?”

“I don’t drink any more than you do, especially on the job.”

Suarez spoke. “Both of you should have a glass at these events to keep up appearances, but make sure not to get drunk.”

That point was easily agreed on. No one had any intention of getting drunk, especially around each other. Sergio could barely control himself when he was sober. He didn’t want to imagine what a glass of wine would do to him if he was to be around Raquel.

“How long do you think this investigation is going to last?” His eyes went to the clock. It was already past his dinner time. He didn’t like his daily schedule interrupted, and this little agreement with the police was taking up too much of his day.

“That depends on how fast Raquel can gather evidence. However, knowing how secretive Andres is, combined with the threat on public safety, we’re not expecting it to last less than a few months.”

“Months?!”

“I will approach it as delicately as possible, and I need some time to get close to him,” she explained. “Andres will only start revealing his cards once he starts trusting me.”

“But months? Really? What about my life?” _What about my weekly yoga? My building meetings? How am I going to take a stand against my neighbors if they think I have a girlfriend? They’ll go soft on me._ _They’ll think I’m weak._

“Mr. Marquina,” Suarez caught his attention. “Your life as you know it is over. You either succeed and be lucky enough to keep your job, or you go to jail. I suggest you start preparing for the fact that for the next couple of months, this is your reality.”

Sergio’s eyes searched the room frantically for a bottle of Prozac.

“If you’re ready, let’s practice.”

#

It had taken him a quarter of an hour to calm down. It had required an emergency trip to the bathroom and two cups of jasmine tea. He had offered some to his _guests_ , but no one seemed to buy into the healing power of white tea. So, he had sipped it quietly, contemplated his future, and said goodbye to his mental health.

Prieto and Angel joined them in the living room. When Raquel sat back down on the couch, she opted for a spot closer to him. His tea trembled in his hand.

“We’ll begin with the basics,” Suarez said. “Try to relax. Always be yourself.”

If he were to be himself, Sergio would have slipped into a coma, but he wasn’t about to piss Raquel off even more and risk decapitation. Instead, he placed his mug on a coaster and aligned it with the edge of the coffee table. He disliked asymmetry.

“Don’t forget, the best way to make a lie believable is to always slip a bit of truth in between. Now, tell me how you met your girlfriend.”

“A-alright,” he cleared his throat. “I met Ms. Murrillo-“

“Raquel,” she corrected him.

“I met Raquel f-four months ago?” He started, looking around for approval. When everyone nodded, he continued with a shaky voice. “I cooked her goose.”

“I thought it was a duck?”

“Damn it!” He cursed. “It wasn’t even goose season four months ago; Andres will see right through this!”

“Before jumping to any migrating birds, maybe start with what drew you to her,” Prieto tried to help.

Sergio’s gaze found Raquel. “Ms. Murrillo-“

“Raquel,” she corrected him again.

“Raquel is,” he remembered the tip from earlier; mix it with the truth. “Raquel is a very alluring woman?”

Her features softened, and she even smiled a bit. Sergio’s heart stopped. He found himself hypnotized by that smile. Craving more of the tenderness he’d just witnessed, he allowed himself to continue. “She intrigued me.”

“That’s too much,” Angel interrupted.

“What are you talking about? That’s perfect!” Prieto frowned.

Snapping out of his trance, Sergio turned to Angel. The man was restless; that much was clear. He kept on pacing like he was the one who could go to jail. Sergio didn’t understand him. He was doing everything they were asking of him; he had abandoned all common sense, and he was collaborating with the police to betray his best friend. The whole situation was stressful as it was. Why was Angel increasing the pressure?

He watched him; he watched the way his attention kept landing on Raquel. Sergio looked back at Raquel and watched her evade Angel’s gaze. Then he looked back at Angel, who sighed loudly and resumed pacing.

_Oh._

There was history between the two.

Sergio frowned and couldn’t stop his next question. “Will I get to learn more about Raquel?”

She shifted uncomfortably, a frown decorating her features. “You don’t need to know about me. My entire personality is fiction. We can make up as we go.”

“I thought lies needed to be mixed with truth,” he countered.

“That’s for people who can’t lie,” she was quick to answer. “Like you.”

“That’s funny. I thought I’d lied pretty well back there.”

His words hit her like a slap, and he immediately wished he could take them back. He felt stupid. She just had a way of pressing his buttons, and he didn’t have control over his own reaction. He never had any social skills to begin with, and it seemed that Raquel brought the worst in him.

Prieto spoke up. “Raquel, maybe you might wanna… _not_ reach for your gun every time he speaks.”

Distracted, Sergio looked down to realize that Raquel had indeed laid a protective hand over her gun. His throat tightened.

Raquel groaned, but her hand dropped from her gun. “Is he our only option? No other employee left in the company?”

“I am still in the room,” he said.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Marquina is our best bet,” Suarez replied, “No other board member is close with Fonollosa.”

“God, help me…” She muttered under her breath.

“Alright,” Suarez was quick to change the subject. “Let’s try that again. Maybe hold hands this time and be a little bit more… nice to each other?”

He took a deep breath. Again. He could try this again. It was just words. And when it came to holding hands, he didn’t remember the last time he held a woman’s hand, but he could try that as well. Women were people; he reminded himself. They had hands just like the rest of them. Sure, there were soft and delicate, but they were hands. Raquel had hands. He couldn’t imagine how this could go wrong.

Except when she grabbed his hand on the couch, he jumped in surprise. “Why is your hand so cold?!”

“You don’t have the heater on! Hasn’t anyone told you that anything below 20 C° is not actually room temperature?”

“My body runs hot, and I was cooking.”

With that small reference to his body, he watched as her eyes scanned down his shoulders. Sergio wasn’t overly muscular, but he worked out every morning, and he didn’t skip his weight training. He was a firm believer in a healthy body and a healthy mind. As for his body fat percentage, he kept a chart on his fridge and followed it meticulously.

He liked to keep himself sharp, but he did it for himself, so he was surprised to see Raquel’s gaze linger on his chest.

“You work out or something?”

“I do,” he replied. “My body mass index is 21.5.”

“No one asked,” she rolled her eyes.

Much to his surprise, her palms were sweaty. Yet her hands were freezing. Women’s bodies did not abide by the rules of biology, that was for sure. Instinctively, Sergio brought his other hand to the mix, enveloping her fingers with both of his hands. She needed the warmth; he didn’t. Thankfully, she didn’t react.

“So, when did you meet?”

“We met four months ago,” Sergio started. “We had some wine together.”

“I asked him out first,” Raquel intervened. “We were in the same cooking class, and we were learning how to chop onions. He was amazing at it, and I asked him what his secret was.”

Sergio nodded violently. Raquel was an expert at lying, and for a brief second, he wondered whether they’d actually met chopping onions. But then he remembered the persecution he’d suffered in his kitchen and snapped himself back to reality.

“Raquel couldn’t chop onions at all,” he added.

She threw him a pointed look. “But lucky for me, Sergio agreed to teach me.”

His name lingered on her lips. He turned to her in fascination and licked his lips. “I did… I taught her. Then I roasted a goose.”

“Duck!”

“Dammit!” He cursed again. Already he was ruining the entire investigation. “Duck, I cooked you duck.”

“Never mind that,” Suarez tried to calm him down. “You were doing great. Let’s keep going.”

Forcing himself to move on, he focused his attention back on the police officer in front of him and nodded. Raquel’s hand in his grip was a strange feeling. He tried not to focus too much on it, but he was hyperaware of her. Every time she moved a finger, it felt as though she was tickling his insides.

“So,” Suarez said. “Let’s try another question. Sergio, why haven’t you introduced Raquel to your coworkers before?”

His mind went blank. He blinked a few times, trying to gather his thoughts, but nothing was coming out.

“We didn’t even think we’d be dating for that long,” Raquel was quick to speak. She squeezed his hand and smiled at him. “It started with dinner, then we kept seeing more of each other. I just couldn’t resist him, but I wanted to keep it private. I know how important his career is for him.”

He turned to her slowly. The warmth in her eyes seemed genuine. For a second, he was caught in the current. It looked real. Authentic. His insides softened, and he lowered his guard. He even allowed himself to smile.

Then Raquel elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop staring at me and say something.”

Right. She really was an excellent liar.

“I…” he stammered. “I cooked… a goose.”

“God damn it,” she groaned in frustration and pulled her hand away from his grip. “This isn’t gonna work.”

“Raquel, please,” Prieto chimed in.

“He is terrible at lying, Alfonso,” she was visibly angry now. “He’s not even making an effort!”

“I am making lots of effort,” Sergio defended himself. “I am just not good at it.”

“I got that,” she snapped at him, then turned to Prieto. “Can I talk to you in private?”

The detective nodded, and Sergio watched as Raquel stood up and dragged Prieto with her to the opposite corner of his living room, near the floor-to-ceiling windows. He immediately looked away, grabbing his mug. The tea was getting cold. He took a small sip and tried to focus on anything else besides Raquel.

“Do I really have to do this?” she spoke in a hushed tone. Clearly, she wasn’t aware of how thoroughly Sergio cleaned his ears in the morning because he could hear her if he focused hard enough.

“I thought we agreed on this, Raquel,” Prieto did a worse job at whispering.

Sergio tried to focus on his tea and its healing powers, but he was past the point of healing. He couldn’t help but listen, blaming it on their inability to keep their conversation private. After all, it was his home, and if there were some whispering to be done, he was going to be a party to it even if it meant his tea getting cold.

“I never wanted to be a part of this operation to begin with, and this guy is making everything worse.”

Prieto stepped closer to her, and Sergio struggled to hear the next part.

“I think we both know that you have no choice but to go undercover right now.”

That little remark piqued his interest. He shifted in his seat and looked away, trying to remain invisible.

“Please don’t make me do this,” she whispered, then said something else Sergio couldn’t hear.

“Raquel,” Prieto raised his voice ever so slightly. “You’re the best negotiator I have, I need you on this case. And you need to disappear for a little bit. It works out perfectly.”

Raquel looked at Sergio, and he immediately looked away. From the corner of his eye, he watched her turn back to her boss. She whispered something he couldn’t hear.

Prieto also looked at Sergio, then turned back to her. “He is…” he started, but the rest of his sentence was muffled.

He was dying to hear more, knowing that they were talking about him. She’d caught his attention once, and she stuck around in his head like an unwelcomed guest.

“So,” Suarez spoke up. “We should keep working on your story.”

He nearly jumped in surprise, afraid that he was caught red-handed, but thankfully Suarez wasn’t too concerned with who Sergio was listening to. The officer just occupied himself with the details of the investigation. That was good because Sergio didn’t need another pair of eyes on him. He wanted to be invisible. He didn’t want to be perceived.

The next few minutes were spent with a lot of exasperation and fatigue. Suarez went over every single detail with him. They discussed the backstory and the operation. This was the most important case that was open with the Spanish authorities. Sergio was handed a document after document, outlining the plan and its potential threats.

He learned that Andres had started insider trading shortly after they’d founded their company. After realizing how much profit they could be making, he had utilized his international contacts to build the company’s fame only to sell it to whoever offered the highest price. The embezzlement had begun once the company was making enough profit that he could intercept the direct income before it made it into the operating account. This was done either through cash payments or close relationships with the tellers at the national bank. Friendships were formed through bribery or gifts. Andres was always a charmer, and it was clear that he had used his skills to their full extent to skim the cream of the corporation.

The money laundering was done through an illegitimate line of product he had started with another entity that was incorporated overseas. The production was done for fake jewelry that was sold as the real deal. The money was transferred to an offshore account with anonymous ownership that remained under Andres’s control. Any expenses paid to the international corporation were marked down as a business consultation expense that escaped Sergio’s audits like a crook in an expensive suit. The conspiracy and fraud were sprinkled in between these main operations, rendering Andres a primary suspect for the biggest financial investigation in the country.

However, the police had to cut back on their aggression when Andres got involved with an underground organization that was known for its gang-related activities. Sergio had stopped listening once he began hearing words such as murders, assassinations, and kidnappings. To think that he was under such a big risk the entire time he showed up to work, sipped his espresso, and tried to avoid Silene’s flirting was unbearable. He always thought he had the safest job in the world. The only peril he’d faced was on paper. He had trusted Andres, but the CEO had stabbed him in the back by committing fraud when he knew that Sergio had clinical anxiety.

He would never forgive him for this, never.

Hopeless, cornered, and nervous, Sergio followed Suarez’s instructions, at least tried to. Halfway through going over the story for the tenth time, they heard Raquel’s voice.

“Forget it. I’m not doing it!”

Prieto tried to put a friendly hand on her shoulder, but she shook him off.

“Raquel, please,” he pleaded with her, no longer trying to keep his voice down.

“It’s too dangerous,” she shook her head and took a step back. “It’s me and…” she threw Sergio an unpleasant look, “it’s me and this bookkeeper against a terrorist organization.”

Oh no. Terrorist was a bad word.

“You’re telling me that I won’t have backup because that’ll compromise my position. You won’t assign me a partner; you won’t support me. If something happens, we are on our own.”

Something happens? What _could_ happen, he thought to himself.

“You are the best I have. If anyone can do it, it’s you,” Prieto tried once again.

“No way,” she took another step back then headed to the couch to grab her coat. “I’m out.”

Suarez tried to speak, but she hushed him with her hand. She put on her coat, threw one last look at his apartment, and turned to him. “Mr. Marquina, I wish I could say it’s been a pleasure. But I hope I won’t ever have to see you again.”

Her platform boots hounded his hardwood floors as she turned away without waiting for an answer. She headed for the door.

“Wait.”

She kept walking.

Prieto looked desperate. Grief clouded his eyes. “If you don’t do it, you’re fired.”

She paused. Sergio paused. Everyone stopped moving.

“Excuse me?” she turned to him, slow and murderous.

“I don’t want to repeat myself, Raquel,” Prieto sighed. “You heard me loud and clear. I will fire you, and you won’t be protected.”

She marched up to him so fast that for a minute, Sergio thought that she was going to punch him, kick him in the balls and stab his jugular, in that order. But thankfully, she stopped inches away from him, and Sergio stopped worrying about blood stains on the carpet.

“If I do this, I won’t be protected regardless. You’re sending me on a suicide mission.”

“There’s a good chance you will come out of this safe and clear,” sorrow graced his voice. “But we both know that the second you’re fired, there is no guarantee that you’ll be alive for long.”

“What?!” Sergio exclaimed. His stomach churned. He struggled to keep his lunch down. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Raquel sighed and turned to him. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

“You’re telling me that you’re a walking death trap, and I don’t need to worry about it?” he stood up, his tea be damned. He slammed his mug down onto the coffee table, but when a few drops of tea spilled onto the wood, he cursed his luck. “And look what you’ve done to my coffee table!”

“My life is at risk, and you’re worried about a table?”

“It’s an antique!” He was getting angry now. How dare this woman march into his apartment, risk his life and ruin his furniture?

Raquel scoffed and turned away from him, signaling that the conversation was over. It infuriated him, and it made him want to grab her and…

“I’ll do it,” she said to Prieto.

“What?” Prieto muttered in disbelief.

“What???” Sergio exclaimed in terror.

She threw him a brief look but continued to address her boss. “I’ll do it, but I want him on a tight leash.”

“I’m not your dog!”

“He’ll do everything you say,” Prieto answered for him. “If he doesn’t listen, you have my permission to do whatever you want with him.”

He was in hysterics. He couldn’t speak. He stood there like a baby deer caught at headlights.

“Good,” she gestured Sergio. “Then I agree to be his girlfriend.”

_No…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got Twitter! You can find me on @BronzeBarrier and you can definitely harass me about update times 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of things planned for this story, but it really depends on if it's being read or not. If you like it or wanna see more of it, drop a comment/kudos below. Thanks for reading!


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